


Three Cigarettes in an Ashtray

by reyiosa



Series: Star Wars Prompts [1]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Legends - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - The Mummy Fusion, Dooku POV, F/M, Hate at First Sight, Pre-Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-16
Updated: 2020-10-16
Packaged: 2021-03-08 23:47:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,046
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27045232
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/reyiosa/pseuds/reyiosa
Summary: “Who’s rude?” asked Dooku.Jocasta returned him a startlingly frigid glance. “The Mandalorian youinsistedshould help us.”
Relationships: Dooku/Jocasta Nu - one-sided, Jaster Mereel/Jocasta Nu
Series: Star Wars Prompts [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1973905
Comments: 10
Kudos: 79





	Three Cigarettes in an Ashtray

**Author's Note:**

> For Satan, who prompted for Jocasta/Jaster. Had _The Mummy_ on my mind, so here we are. Dooku's here because I adore the idea of him as an awkward Knight. 
> 
> Uses [myakkoh](https://myakkoh.tumblr.com/)'s fan-made first name for Dooku.

“He’s rude.”

Dooku lifted his head from examining the rather fascinating white dirt endemic to Valc. Jocasta was approaching him with a fevered pace, her robes flicking behind her with her agitated movements. The hems were gathering dirt, white and freckled on the deep brown cloth.

“Who’s rude?” asked Dooku. 

Jocasta returned him a startlingly frigid glance. “The Mandalorian you _insisted_ should help us.”

“I did no such thing,” replied Dooku. “Master Cerulian mentioned him in the brief, and you confirmed that he’d be helpful—”

“ _Might_ be helpful, Hiyo, _might_.” Jocasta huffed. “There’s a key word there you’re missing.”

Dooku restrained the urge to roll his eyes. They were no longer padawans growing into their robes, they were fully grown knights embarking on a rather dangerous mission to uncover a lost Jedi temple with a rumored Dark presence. “He’s the only one who’s been in the area in the past three hundred years who’s around. If the price to pay is a small bounty and his rudeness, I hardly see the point of complaint.”

Jocasta glowered. “He’s arrogant, childish, thinks he knows it all—”

“And who does that describe?”

“You,” she replied without hesitation. “And he...” A flush grew in her cheeks, the red tinge not unlike the gingerbread of her hair. (It was a detail Dooku kept in the granite fortress of his mind.)

“He?” prompted Dooku, unsure where this was going.

“He kissed me,” she muttered darkly. “In order to ‘seal the deal’ before I rescued his ungrateful behind from the prison I found him in.”

Dooku blinked. And blinked. “And what deal was that?”

“That’s your question? Not why was that wildman kissing me?”

“I intended to respect your privacy. This seems to distress you.”

“And you’re more interested in what I _promised_ the scoundrel in the first place,” finished Jocasta, her grin humorless. 

She wasn’t wrong. It wasn’t a particular surprise that other beings wanted to kiss Jocasta. It seemed like common sense. (Another thought locked in the fortress.) “I’m more interested in knowing what you may have promised our companion in your...current state of mind.”

Jocasta sneered. “He wants safe harbor off the planet once we’re done. And payment. I’ll let you negotiate those terms, Knight Dooku.” She folded her arms over her chest. “And he better have showered before we embark or else I’ll have to—”

“Have to what?”

That answer did not come from Dooku, but from a brown-skinned Human in durasteel armor—clearly not his own, based on its ill fit and the Human’s clear discomfort in it. He carried a leather rucksack over one shoulder and a Mandalorian-style helmet in the other, the T-shaped visor shined to a gleam. His eyes—deep brown, near black—flickered between Dooku and Jocasta. 

Jocasta, whose jaw was all but dropped. Her eyes did a half-second sweep of the interloper, which was the most brazen show of affectedness Dooku had seen from her. _Ah_.

“Ser Mereel, I assume,” Dooku said when it became that Jocasta wouldn’t speak first. 

The Mandalorian’s attention turned to Dooku. “At your service, Master Jedi,” he said, ending with a little mocking bow and a small smirk, gentle against a stout, freshly shaven jaw.

“I am Knight Dooku, and you’ve already made your acquaintance with Knight Nu.” Jocasta threw him a dirty look, which Dooky ignored. “Do we have anything further to discuss before we get started on our expedition?”

“The terms of payment would be nice,” replied Mereel. The words made his Concord Dawn accent all the clearer. His curly brown hair—recently cut—managed a casual flick as he turned toward Jocasta. “And other terms that you’d want to spell out. Contracts are far more _civilized_ than verbal agreements, after all.”

Jocasta flushed, visibly inhaling. “My apologies, Ser Mereel, I would hate to begin our relationship on such a _presumptuous_ note.”

“Shall I alert our transport to put one of you on the roof before we embark?” inquired Dooku blandly. “Or have we forgotten the rules of professionalism here?”

“Tell that to the man who _kissed_ me between bars—” growled Jocasta at the same time as Mereel said, “If she keeps making comments about whether I’ve _bathed_ —”

“Enough,” interrupted Dooku. The harshness of his tone sent Jocasta’s brows skyward. Mereel looked more irritated that surprised. “Knight Nu, Ser Mereel, I expect this to be resolved before we leave in an hour. I plan to check in on our ship’s captain and see what other supplies they will need. I hope to see you both there by the time everything is ready. If not, stars guide you _both_.”

And with a flourish of his robe that he knew Jocasta loathed, he turned his back on the pair. 

It was likely a tactical mistake to give them more time alone, but turning back was a fool’s move. The best case scenario was that they would resolve whatever offenses they’d caused each other and move on to a purely professional relationship. That was what Dooku would do. That also meant it was highly unlikely.

He’d never seen Jocasta like that: so ruffled by another. That the object of her frustration and intrigue would be a Mandalorian was bewildering. Master Cerulian likely had reasons to recommend the man by name, but Mereel seemed little more than a brutish warrior, no matter how handsome and fit he was. Dooku had hoped Jocasta would have better taste.

(Said taste would never include him, he was sure. She was fire where he was ice, brave where he was cautious, kind where he was cold. Their late-night discussions in the archives over illegal cups of tea solidified their friendship, but Jocasta was always to be the other half of Dooku’s soul, not the other way around. And that was fine. To be a Jedi meant to be without possessions, and no one sane could ever hope to possess Jocasta Nu. Better to be caught in her orbit and bask in her glow from afar.)

He came back in half an hour to find her and the Mandalorian locked in an arm-wrestle outside a local restaurant. The sigh that escaped his lips was involuntary and caught the attention of both his companions. Maybe Dooku shouldn’t have been so surprised by this after all.

**Author's Note:**

> This ends before anything happens, but if I were to go further it'd 100% be an OT3. Love triangles are boring.
> 
> Kudos are appreciated, comments are adored. Find me on tumblr @reyiosa.


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